


Obviously Unobvious

by mvtthewmurdvck



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Co-workers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Who even knows, Will Dex Realise, Will Reader Realise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 11:39:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17202767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvtthewmurdvck/pseuds/mvtthewmurdvck
Summary: Prompt:you have been the one since the day I met you, you’re just very slow at realising it.





	Obviously Unobvious

The chandeliers glittered above the two of you, and even as your hand grasped Dex’s arm, taking in the beauty of the building, a part of you knew you couldn’t truly enjoy it. Not when you were living such a lie.

The wedding was more than you imagined it would be, but then, your ex had been a show off even when the two of you had been together. Richard always liked to show his wealth, and even though you had amicably split and remained cordial, there had been no hiding from him when he began to date one of your ‘other friends’ from school.

The moment you stepped into the foyer, couples after couples looking at one another with moon-eyes, you wished you were here with someone who  _really_ wanted to be with you. Not just someone who pitied you, and saw you only as an annoying work colleague turned friend.

It had been more than apparent that Dex had felt sorry for you, falling victim to your whines and faux sobs as he sat opposite you, trying to focus on his reports. You hadn’t felt too guilty about playing such games, not when you would—on occasion—stay behind and reassured him about something trivial that had gotten him worked up. But the day you received the gold envelope, the one that made your stomach knot and quickly dread the phone call from your mother, Dex had actually looked at you with concern.

You knew you had been gnawing on your lip, hesitant to even open it—knowing precisely what it would be. The voice of your mother, ‘that could have been you if you put a man before your career’ sounded in your head. And while you wouldn’t have liked to be in your friend’s shoes, the loneliness of being single wasn’t that much of a picnic either.

Waiting for Dex to see you as someone datable, and not just a friend to spend occasional Friday nights with, was becoming tedious; your feelings for him, not shying away, and if anything were getting worse.

All of this, and a thousand other thoughts you couldn’t process swirled around your mind. You didn’t stop, not until you tasted blood and Dex had clearly become annoyed with your whittling, eventually snatching the invitation from your hand. You didn’t even protest as he threw it in his drawer, his eyebrows knitted and his attention slid back to the papers in front of him.

It didn’t matter. You had already seen the invite, the two names you knew would be on it and the location that made your green-eyed monster want to emerge. You also knew you couldn’t  _not_  attend, you’d have to; otherwise, you’d be the whisper of the wedding. ‘Y/N couldn’t turn up, too emotional after the split’ or 'she had never taken it easy, but Richard had to do what Richard thought was best’. Even if it was big-headed of you to think such, you couldn’t risk it becoming a reality.

For a second or two, you stared hopelessly at Dex, hoping he’d read your mind, and just ask you what was wrong.

But of course, he didn’t.

Dex never did. His lack of emotional awareness was something that had gravitated you to him in the first place. You being overly sensitive, you had thought being around him would harden you up—but instead, you fell in love with him.

You, as usual, didn’t give up your thoughts about the invite. With occasional soft sob noises falling from your lips, Dex forced himself to ignore them until they reached a new volume and he sharply looked at you.

“ _What will make you stop, Y/N_?”

Shrugging your shoulders. “ _It’s a wedding invite_.”

“ _Not how I imagined that going. What will make you stop, Y/N?_ ”

You had rolled your lips, tilting your head from side to side. “ _Go with me, so I don’t have to go alone_.”

Having blurted it out without much thought, it didn’t surprise you when you felt your face burn, and you watched Dex’s lips curl into a smirk. If receiving an invite to your ex-boyfriends’ wedding wasn’t humiliating enough—especially when you weren’t dating and were in love with your coworker—asking Dex, the coworker in question, to be your pity date was the final nail in the  _humiliating_  coffin.

“ _You want_ me _to come with you_?” You could only nod as Dex had held your stare. “ _Alright_.”

Having expected him to find an excuse, it had surprised you when Dex tapped his knuckles against your front door a few months later. The two of you had, on occasion, mentioned the upcoming wedding, but you had still been surprised Dex remembered. Although, he was the most organised person you knew. He wasn’t predictable, but everything had a place, had a routine. Three taps, just like usual; prominently on time, just like Dex was known for. Brushing your hand down your dress, you had opened the door in a daze, shocked to find a tuxedo dressed Dex—although not surprised at how impeccable he looked.

If you weren’t in love with him already, you were sure you would be after the sight of him.

His cheeks had lightly blushed as your mouth dropped; the sight of his colour cheeks was something you had never seen before and happened to rather like. Dex became rigid as he entered your apartment, which was unlike him but you tried to pay him no attention. He could be nervous, although you had never known him to be about anything; he could have felt uncomfortable, which you found understandable. You watched in the mirror as he fidgeted, occasionally rubbing his chin before swiping his hair back, and the smile that rugged over your lips was hard to fight.

“Shall we head out?”

“Sure,” he said with zero emotion, which happened to be a small comfort, showing that not everything had changed. 

The cab ride was uneventful, the two of you remaining as far apart as possible, and a sudden dread washed over you for a second before his hand found yours. Your lips pursed together as you suppressed a grin, your eyes found the skyline as the cab flittered between traffic.

At one stage, Dex hadn’t even been comfortable to receive a hug from you on his birthday. He had frowned, staring at you as though you had cursed him and, as politely as he could, asked what in the hell you were doing. It had both stunned and hurt your heart that hugs were so uncommon in his life, but promised not to do it again unless he asked. Dex, thankfully, asked a month or two later, he had still been as rigid as the first time though, which is what surprised you, even more, when he took your hand.

He had initiated the contact but seemed tense about it happening. He appeared to stare at your hands together, although his face remained unreadable.  

“Y/N? You look nice,  _really_  nice,” Dex mumbled beside you, a smile itching to grow over his mouth.

Swiping the tip of your tongue over your bottom lip, you turned to face him, a soft smile on your face. “Don’t sound too surprised, Poindexter,” you teased lightly, watching his mouth twitch as he kept his eyes on you. “Thanks again… I don’t imagine these are your favourite things.”

His shoulders shrugged, his other hand adjusting his tie as he swallowed. “So who am I?” You arched your brow, your forehead creasing. “Husband?  _Boyfriend_? Slice on the side?”

The seriousness of his question, compared with the glint in his eye made you howl. Your hand cupping your mouth, hoping to suppress the loudness of it. His eyes twinkled as the cab turned a corner, and the setting sun shone through his window, lighting the side of his face.

“Who’d you want to be?” You asked, a little more flirtatiously than intended.

Dex turned his face from you, his neck reddening as you caught sight of his mouth curling into a smirk. “I think boyfriend will be alright, don’t you? Friend seems like you didn’t want to come alone.” Your stare at him, becoming annoyed. “Alright, boyfriend then.” 

You could only nod, a small part of you wishing it was all real. Dex wasn’t just someone you liked to spend your time with, but someone you sought out spending more time with. The two of you ran together several days of the week, you met for coffee’s, and he had even offered to come with you to your parents when you had been dreading going.

On paper, he was  _your_  boyfriend. Everyone else thought it. Everyone else had even considered it.

Except Dex.

Or if he did, he didn’t allude to it. If anything, he ignored it when others would mention it—his grip tightening around his pen, or his eyes hardening when people taunted the two of you in the break room.

’ _You were friends_ ’, he would say, sharp and to the point, leaving no room for discussion. Sometimes, it was how quickly he said it, as though the suggestion of the two of you repulsed him somehow. You tried to put it to the back of your mind, the two of you were colleagues, partners—your lives rested in the others hand, you saw little point in raising your thoughts to him.

It surprised you when Dex came to let your out on your side of the cab, even paying the drive as he pocketed his wallet with precision. As the two of you entered, a champagne flute being handed to you each, you could feel his eyes on you. They lit your skin, dancing small embers up and down your exposed arms, and you hated how much you liked it. You wanted, as always, to feel nothing, but in reality, your heart skipped a beat. Just as it always did.

“So how come you two split up?” Dex asked, a hint of something in his voice, but you couldn’t work out what.

He came to a stop as you took notice of the huddle of women by the bar, and in the corner of your eye, you watched as his shoulders squared off. Dex became the man who led missions, who had been to war, who surveyed a room quickly. It didn’t unsettle you, not like you thought it would. If anything, it calmed you; it relaxed your bones that someone else checked windows and surveillance.

Taking a sip of the almost-clear liquid, you scanned the room, seeing old friends—and some not-so-friends. “Amicably decided that  _I_ had zero time.”

Dex cleared his throat, and you felt his arm tense under your hand. “Bullshit,” he muttered, forcing you to meet his eyes. “What? It is. You have a lot of free time, you’re always with me.”

You smiled, licking your lips as you tried not to redden. “We work similar shift patterns, Dex. To you, I have an abundance of time. To someone, not you, I work terrible hours, go running with another man and get a coffee with them when I could be at home.”

“He sounds jealous.”

You shrugged, casting your gaze back to the filling foyer. “Wouldn’t you be?”

Dex remained silent, and in a small way, you were glad. The more the room filled, the more school friends and college ghosts appeared.

On the one hand, you were glad you weren’t alone, but in another, you just wished you hadn’t come at all. Even if, to them, you appeared as a put together, successful woman, you knew you weren’t. You were fake dating your colleague for a wedding and was stupidly—almost childishly—in love with the said man, who had no idea. Your career may be a success story, but your love life was anything but.

You had little time to ponder on it, a bell chiming and the crowd suddenly moving to a doorway that had opened. You suppressed a scoff, hiding it as a cough as you felt Dex look at you filled with perplexion, but you didn’t acknowledge him. Your eyes were focused ahead, meeting the face of a man you had once thought was your everything.

You  _felt_  nothing.

It was expected, but the little panic when you dressed that morning had wormed its way into the forefront of your brain.  _What if you become the crazy-ex-girlfriend_? As yourself and Dex found a seat, you were happy to bury that thought.

Your hand let go of Dex’s arm, your palm suddenly feeling cold as you placed your bag on your lap. For the first time, you smelled his aftershave, the wooden and warm scent that made your insides turn to goo. It was a scent you hoped you’d never forget, and just as you were about to force yourself to focus on something else, his fingers found yours.

It wasn’t clear if it was for him, you, or the rouse, but you were thankful all the same. Turning your hand as your fingers intertwined, a current dancing between your fingers you hoped he felt too. You were too afraid to meet his eyes to find out, your chest filled with the fluttering of wings as the organ suddenly bellowed, and the two of you were forced to stand.

His shoulder was against yours, your hands clutching one another’s, and you couldn’t help but lose yourself in the moment as your friend walked down the aisle. Even if it was all for one afternoon, you knew you’d have it—like the old romantic you were.

Your concentration was lost on the actual wedding, Dex’s side pressed to yours as his hand remained around yours. All of his body heat, the scent of his aftershave and each twitch of his leg flooded you, rendering you useless and entirely without thought. You weren’t much more useful at dinner, Dex surprising you with his perfect retelling of the day you started. You knew he had worked for a hotline, you knew he worked well from a script and kept to precise details, but you wondered if he had practised. Everything he said was perfect, and even the light touches he bestowed on you, they were everything that was needed to sell your romance.

Just like a romantic comedy.

Like something you wished could be real.

Before you knew it, music had begun to play, and Dex stood beside you, stiff and uncomfortable. The offering of more champagne came round, but neither of you wished for more, both awaiting food.

“Do you want to dance?”

Eyeing him cautiously, you smirked as you folded your arms. “Can you  _even_ dance?”

Dex shook his head in disbelief, a coy look on his face. “Y/N, I am full of small surprises.” He offered his hand, his brows arched. “ _Master_  marksman, remember. I know where to put a bullet, I think I can figure out where to put my feet.”

A flirtatious remark danced over the tip of your tongue that you managed to silence, not wanting to ruin, the so far okay, day. You allowed him to take your hand, the two of you moving between other dancing couples as you felt him pull you closer.

Neither of you spoke for the first song, but when the second began, a slower, softer one, you chose to rest your head onto his shoulder, eyeing him from your position.

“You deserve better than him.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you feigned an innocent look. “You almost sound like a protective  _or jealous_  man after my heart,” you teased, something he didn’t reply too. “He deserves happiness too, and I am happy he found it in her. Plus, if the shoe was on the other foot, and I was her, I wouldn’t be dancing with a master marksman.” 

“Funny,” he retorted sharply, twirling you out before pulling you back in, something that amazed you. “You’re impressed?”

You shrugged lightly. “Almost, I think you’ve got more in you.” 

Dex held your gaze, and as the two of you moved fluidly, you couldn’t help but allow your heart to occasionally skip a beat. 

“I mean it, Y/N. You’re a good person, a great person. You deserve someone who won’t see you, for you.”

His jaw tensed as if he had said too much, and all you could do was swallow.  Dex tore his eyes away, choosing to fix them at odd places around the room. You suspected that it was the job, to ignore and shut feelings off. It could even be something he couldn’t turn off, a part of him. It was possibly more natural for you to compliment, to say something nice and keep eye-contact; yes, your job was your life too, but you hadn’t seen all the things he had. You just hoped at times he rested, finding comfort in whatever moment he found himself in, Dex deserved that, above all else.

“Thank you…  _for_  today.” His head tilted slightly, eyes almost meeting yours. “You’ve been  _too_  good to me, Dex,” you said close to his ear, not pulling back to meet him. “You didn’t even have to come, you’re…  _friend obligations_  don’t include being a  _fake_  boyfriend. But you did. For me.”

You felt his hand spread over your back, his fingers pressing against your spine.

Dex cleared his throats “Have you ever considered that I wanted to come for you?”

His eyes had narrowed, his other hand on your hip as the music continued and it felt like the two of you were the rooms only occupants. You only saw him; you just felt him.

“Y/N, I’d do anything for you,” Dex continued, looking at you as though you should have known that, but you hadn’t. It had never even crossed your mind. “You’re  _safe_ with me. I’ve got you, always.”

Somehow, even as the two of you swayed, and the effects of the champagne could have misled you, you suspected there was something more. His eyes were fixed on you, a shine to them that he always had; his grip was purposeful, as though he wanted to hold you, and only you.

“Tell me I’m  _not_  imagining it,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on his as his face became stern. “You have to know…  _it’s_ … obvious, right?”

Dex remained silent, and embarrassment began to creep up your ankles, weaving around your legs, pinning you in place. It kept you from running, forcing you to remain here and face whatever this was.

“Dex, I… _I like you._  You know that, right?”

His features remained unchanged, and the song came to an end. The silence, it was suffocating; it was thick and full of weight, and it crushed you. You could feel the burn as tears began to build, and your chest tightened as your heart picked up speed.

Your feet were taking you before you realised you were passing happy faces—ones that didn’t know the crack that had just appeared in your chest. Your hand pushed the glass door, fresh air hitting you as you found yourself gasping, as though the tension had been swallowed and clogged your lungs. Your back met the wall, cool marble meeting your skin as you tried to calm, decided to focus on something that wasn’t the devastation of your friendship.

“Y/N?!”

‘ _No_ ’, you pleaded, ‘ _no more life. Not today_ ’.

Dex stood before you, hair having fallen from place and a paler look on his face than usual. “You’re really quick, even in heels.”

You summoned a forced smile, and his shoulders sank as he sighed.

“Look, Y/N—“

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, although it wasn’t fine, it wasn’t even close. “I get it, we’re friends, and that’s just it, and you know, I can understand that. You have a lot to contend with and another person being in your shit isn’t what you want, I get that. Not someone who is clumsy like me, or… has the emotional baggage of a Boeing plane. I just… I get it, Dex. No hard feelings.”

He stared, jaw tensed and lips in a thin line. The face he made when someone interrupted him or pissed him off in the various other ways they could. It was the face he made when someone borrowed his stapler and didn’t give it back; the expression of someone accusing him of using too much force, even if he saved lives. And it was also the face he made when someone disrespected you in front of him, and a face you hated was currently being directed at you.

“C’mere,” he said calmly, offering his hand as you eyed him suspiciously. “Y/N?”

Rolling your eyes, you placed your hand in his, the sparks dancing up your wrist—but this time you resented them. You hated them for the lies they tricked you with and the way they had got your hopes up. You were so lost in hate; you didn’t notice you were stood near a courtyard, flowers standing tall to the side of you.

It was beautiful.

“The day I told you about my… myself, you looked at me like I had everything under control. You sat by my side, and you didn’t flinch or move, you just patted my knee and asked me if I wanted a drink.” Dex tilted his head as his hand rose to rub the back of his neck. “My life has been out of control only a handful of times since you’ve been in it, and that’s because you aren’t here. You’re away, visiting family or something else… but Y/N, I am good at my job because it keeps me in a box. It feels me structured, a clear path ahead. And that was fine until I met you.”

Your heart moved to your neck, thumping and thumping against your voicebox making you unable to speak.

Dex let out a sharp breath, dropping his hand with a slap to his side. “You are, at times, a disorganised mess and you could trip over air, but Y/N, with me, you’re precise and kind—you are tidy, because you know it matters. And… you’ve been the one to guide me when I’m lost. Christ, Y/N since the day I met you, you’ve been all I can think about, and you’re just very slow at realising it.”

Not fighting it, your mouth fell open, eyes widening as his words hit you, breaking down the wall that had been growing to protect you.

“I was told once that I wasn’t broken, that I just needed a North Star to guide me, and Y/N, I didn’t believe that until you plonked yourself opposite me and sat at that desk,” Dex added, a smile on his face as the rest of his features softened. “And… I have  _no_  idea if any of what I’ve said makes sense—“

It did.

_All of it had._

Every word.

But you didn’t say that. Instead, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your lips to his. The sparks ran down your spine, tingling over your head as the room warmed, and you were sure the flowers grew. Dex’s hands, albeit tentative at first, came to rest on your waist, and you hoped he’d never move them. You wanted to remain here forever, in the bubble of his words with the feels of his hands and mouth on you.

He was perfect, he always had been, and it didn’t change when your lips parted, and his eyes stared into yours.

“I like you, Y/N. I really like you.”

You pressed your lips together, unafraid of how much you were blushing now, especially as he rubbed his thumb over your cheek. “I really like you too, Poindexter.” **  
**

**Author's Note:**

> This is an archived piece originally posted on the tumblr, [mvtthewmurdvck](https://mvtthewmurdvck.tumblr.com/).


End file.
